Murder Mansion Read online

  His eyes rolled upward as he worked his jaw from side to side, popping it once. “Hard to say, lots of people owned it, passed through hands several times. A few folks were attracted to the legend. A couple, like you, had hopes of making it into a B and B.”

  How did he know what her plans were? She’d told the real estate agent who initially walked her through, who must have mentioned it to someone else. The gossip train must make a regular stop at Herman Fremont’s place. Legend, interesting.

  “What legend?” Her imagination raced ahead, creating romantic triangles, suicides and consequential hauntings and even disappearing residents. Such things could either hurt or help her business. It’d be best she knew the story, too.

  “Temp sure is dropping.” Herman used his gloved hands to slap at his arms.

  She’d doubted the man would stay considering how cold he was. “I want to hear it!” The words came out more like a demand than a polite request. Still, Herman didn’t act offended.

  “It’s more of an urban legend, a rumor that stuck around a long time, from the end of the nineteenth century. Construction had started on your house. A sea captain commissioned the house for his beloved wife. He wanted to broadcast his financial success in the form of an elaborate home. People at that time didn’t live in McMansions they couldn’t afford but managed to finance. Nope, they paid cash for homes, primarily to build one. Loans existed but weren’t popular. Peculiar belief that you shouldn’t live in a house you couldn’t afford.”

  Donna nodded her head while she fisted her hands inside her jacket pockets. What she really wanted to do was shake Herman and yell Get on with it! A brief history of the home loan wasn’t necessary.

  “The young wife of the original owner had a brother, James Bancroft, a dashing fellow who always had plenty of money, looks and charm. The prevailing gossip was he was a scam artist. Squired all those loaded old broads around and their diamonds vanished. None of them would point a finger at him although most people thought he helped himself as payment for his services.” Herman stopped, punctuating the story with a wink.

  “I got it.” She volunteered that she understood the brother doubled as a gigolo to prevent Herman from explaining what services the man offered. Ick.

  “At the time, a major crime occurred in Charlotte.” Herman stopped his story as Taber approached the two of them.

  The detective held out the coffee cup to Donna. “It’s probably cold now. You could nuke it when you get home.”

  Herman looked at the detective, then back at her, then around her, pointing. “Look, there he goes!”

  The three of them watched Daniel follow the blonde with more wiggle in her walk than gelatin poured into a pair of pantyhose.

  “No!” The word exploded out of her mouth as she darted across the lawn. Her hand landed on Daniel’s arm before he reached the porch stairs. “Stop! I need you.”

  The frustrated blond-haired woman put both hands on her hips and glared at both of them. Oh, the annoyed stare. Really, she thought that would work on her. Think again, sister. She stepped in front of her brother, cutting off his view of the siren, channeling her disdain into a freezing look directed toward the female. “My brother needs his jacket back, too. I imagine a turn in the washer will eliminate the stink of cheap perfume.”

  “Donna!” Her brother’s use of her name reminded her once again she’d stepped over the line of polite behavior. The door of the house slammed as the angry woman’s response.

  Here she thought she could run a B and B. After staying at one in The Netherlands, the idea of becoming a host to various travelers captured her. Their talkative host appeared to enjoy his role. As a nurse, the people she met were heavily medicated, resentful at being in the hospital, or dying. The prospect of meeting a happier portion of society appealed as well as being her own boss, cooking for an appreciative audience and a change of scenery.

  “Daniel,” she snapped back. “What were you doing marching into Delilah’s house?”

  He blinked a couple of times. “Delilah, who’s Delilah?” He angled his head in the direction of the house the blonde had slipped into. The front door opened suddenly and Daniel’s jacket flew out. “You must mean Deidre. She had a creaky door she wanted me to look at once I explained I’m in construction.”

  Her brother must have missed her eye roll as she reached for his jacket. “Daniel, I love you, but how many houses have you entered to fix lonely women’s leaky faucets, stuck windows and cabinet doors that resulted in something extra.”

  Daniel took the offered jacket and shrugged it back on. His habitual aw-shucks grin appeared, melting some of her ire. “I’ll admit I’ve had a few run-ins with lonely women. A few might even rate up there as succubus status, but I’m married now.”

  “Exactly.” She held her hands in front of her, making a clapping motion. He got it. Finally. “That’s why you don’t check out the various household problems.”

  “All right. You don’t have to go all big sister on me. I understand, but what if she really did have a squeaky door?” He shook his head as if she were somehow the person at fault.

  Everyone in their family readily accepted that Daniel received the looks and charm. That must have been all he got because his intelligence was MIA sometimes, or he was thinking with a different head. “If the door bothered her that much, there are plenty of people she could have called to fix it. She could have used a YouTube video for instructions. She could have gone to the hardware store and asked for help. All perfectly acceptable ways of dealing with it. So much better than allowing a total stranger into her home.”

  Her brother looked chastened, which didn’t make her feel any better, but somehow her point may have sunk in. All the same, why not hammer it home. “Maria wouldn’t like you going into a strange woman’s home.”

  A huge laugh exploded not from her brother, but Taber, who looked silly carrying her oversized handbag. “You’d be lucky not to be bunking on the couch for the foreseeable future,” the detective told him.

  Daniel acknowledged the detective with a nod. “You’re right.”

  Really. He basically repeated what she said, although he used different words and suddenly it’s right coming from a man’s mouth. Maybe he needed someone different to point him in the right direction. Her brother did have a tendency to tune her out after years of helpful directives. She should know better than to offer advice since unsolicited help was not always welcome. It was a habit. One she’d honed over the years.

  The two men conversed as if they were old friends. Donna’s lips twisted as she considered what they had to discuss. Murder. Mayhem. Women. All of her neighbors had disappeared, including the informative Herman.

  Donna inquired, “Where’s the old man? He was in the middle of a story.”

  Taber stopped guffawing long enough to answer. “He went home complaining about it being cold.”

  The wind chose that moment to expel an icy gust, rattling the few leaves stubbornly clinging to their branches, despite being dead. Leaves staying on a tree signaled the tree was dead, rather like a ghost, sticking around and being unaware it was a ghost. Maybe the two weren’t the same. Her botany information might not be totally on the level either. The tidbit came from a man she went out with once on a coffee date. The tree bit had served as the highlight of their conversation. She shook her head, realizing her thoughts had followed a mental rabbit.

  Great. Now she’d never know about the legend. Wait. She knew his name. Shouldn’t be that hard to look up his address. At his age, he wouldn’t be the type to have an unlisted phone number. The street name she knew. All she had to do is bake some of her trademark macadamia and chocolate chip cookies and show up with a plateful. The idea had merit. Her lips went up, imagining the elderly man confiding all the needed facts to catch the killer. Of course, she’d be the real hero and would merit a small blurb in the paper mentioning her inn.

  “Why are you smiling?” Her brother’s question alerted her that both men’s
attention had switched to her.

  Smiling, really? She must have done it right that time.

  Taber stared at her, his hand resting on her purse strap draped over his shoulder. No reason for levity, especially in a murder investigation. It gave her the appearance of being some insensitive, macabre figure. “Ah yes, well honestly, it’s you holding my purse. You look so…” Before she could finish, he pulled the bag off his shoulder, holding it away from him as if he’d discovered an open vial of smallpox inside.

  “Don’t drop it.” She darted toward her purse, snatching it by the shoulder strap. “That wasn’t a cheap bag, even on clearance.” Hands wrapped firmly around the strap, she hoisted it to her shoulder. “I was only joking.”

  The detective nodded and then winked. Was that a wink? Difficult to tell with those bushy eyebrows. Could be the morning sun was too much or something flew into his eye. Didn’t mean a thing. “Am I good to go?”

  “Sure. I have your number and you’ve got mine. Give me a call.” He lifted his eyebrows a tiny bit before adding, “If you think of anything else.”

  “Will do.” She nodded before stepping close enough to her brother to elbow him. “Let’s go, Dano. We can reconvene at The Good Egg while I explain your incredible effect on women, again.”

  Her brother wrapped an affectionate arm around her shoulder. “I remember the lecture. Women expect ordinary guys to be friendly, polite and helpful. They expect handsome men to be arrogant jerks. When a woman encounters a handsome, charming man, like myself, they go a little bit crazy.”

  “Ah, spoken like a condescending jackass. There’s hope for you yet. It would help if you managed to insert the word wife in every other sentence. My beautiful wife enjoys the sound of a squeaky door. My resourceful wife can fix a leaky faucet. I can’t wait to get home to my beautiful wife because every moment spent away from her is agony.”

  Daniel chuckled slightly as she knew he would. He tightened his grip and then relaxed his hold. “You’re right. I’ve been single so long I haven’t got the marriage behavior down yet.”

  “Hmm, I noticed, as has Maria, I’m sure.” His truck sat close to her small car on the crowded street. Parking would be the first issue for her. A discreet parking lot in the back would be a necessity. What was she saying? “Oh, just assume every woman is hitting on you because 99 percent of the time they are.”

  “Will do. Do you believe every guy is hitting on you?” He made a wry face at her.

  Her brother thought he had made a funny. “Good one. Of course, not. I’m not you. Rumbling over the hill into fifty-one, no man looks twice at me unless he has a heart attack.”

  Nope, men didn’t go for tall, intelligent women who spoke their minds, especially if they had some mileage on the odometer. They preferred the petite fluffy females who flattered their fragile egos. It certainly explained why her covert attempts at online dating never resulted in anything, something never mentioned to anyone in the family. They already feared she’d die alone and be eaten by her non-existent cats.

  “Donna, I know I’m the little brother and you think I’m clueless. Sometimes, you’re the clueless one.”

  A snort and a vigorous shake removed his arm. “Are you out of your mind?”

  He laughed, “Maybe to disagree with you might be classified as insanity. I’m a man and you aren’t. I noticed plenty of men over the years giving you the once-over. The only problem was you never stared back.”

  The thought made her bark with laughter. Her laugh resembled a seal’s somewhat instead of the usual haha most people had. Her amusement always sounded like har, har, har, rough and discordant to the ears. It made her self-conscious and unable to laugh at most things she even found funny. It also firmed up her reputation as a serious, no-nonsense nurse.

  “Yeah, right. What is this, throw your sister a bone? I know who and what I am. Name me one man who showed significant interest in me.” Her brother’s hesitation made her suspicious. “No making up people either.”

  “Donnie,” he said, the use of her childhood name surprised her, “for a smart woman, you miss a lot. As for knowing yourself, you’re overlooking a great deal. As for men, that detective who just left had more than a professional interest in you.”

  Taber? No way. She squashed the idea before it could take form. Daniel couldn’t stop himself from being nice. It was who he was. A parade of women from Girl Scouts to grandmothers congregated around the rare creature, a pleasant man with a devastating smile. Maria, since marrying Daniel, often referred to him as too nice and cautioned him against letting people take advantage of him. The same advice Donna used to give her brother before she realized he enjoyed playing the hero.

  Chapter Four

  A police cruiser made a leisurely turn at the corner before she opened her car door. No rush, no urgent matter to attend to, it was just time to move on. Apparently, the entire force wasn’t needed for the issue of an unknown dead man. A quarter of a mile later, the sight of a smiling, oversized egg perched on the edge of the restaurant roof announced her destination. As a kid, she used to confuse The Good Egg with Humpty Dumpty.

  Daniel stood by the entrance, holding the front door open for two blue-haired ladies. One even patted his cheek. Donna chuckled at the action, knowing it would annoy her brother. She turned off the ignition, cutting the singer off in the middle of a word. Weird, she didn’t even remember turning the radio on. Her chaotic thoughts, including a mysterious murdered man and the possibility Taber found her attractive, made enough mental noise to drown out anything else.

  “C’mon, slowpoke.” Her brother gestured in her direction. “I’m not going to hold this door open forever.”

  Actually he probably would, but the diners inside wouldn’t appreciate the inflow of frosty air. Donna jogged to where her brother stood, but pointed the key fob back in the direction of her car. The horn beeped indicating the doors had locked. Good. She didn’t need any more surprises today.

  They grabbed a table in the back, leaving an empty table between them and the next diners, where parents battled with three youngsters under four. Their primary goal consisted of keeping the children seated as opposed to being under the table. No worries about the parents eavesdropping. They would be lucky to eat.

  A bored college-age female brought them water and laminated menus. She muttered something about a breakfast special before pivoting away. Donna didn’t quite catch the special, but she did notice Daniel’s perplexed expression. Oh yeah, a female he didn’t impress. That happened now and then. The menu hid her amusement. Could be her handsome brother had reached a cut-off age where he no longer appealed to the younger set.

  “Lesbian.” Her low-voiced comment reached her brother as she had intended. He nodded once, concurring.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.” Daniel worked his chin to one side, then to the other side.

  Faded color photographs of huge breakfasts complete with hash browns and pancakes absorbed her attention. Usually, she told them to hold the pancakes, not feeling the need for such a substantial meal, but the unexpected murder had a way of working up an appetite. Probably would go with the pancakes then. Sure, she was feeding her anxiety, but it was hers. Made sense that she’d feed it.

  Her brother grumbled about something. “Un-huh,” Donna acknowledged, without listening.

  “Yeah, you see it too. I wonder what the numbers are.” Daniel squirmed in his chair, craning his neck to view all the diner’s occupants. “What do you think the statistics are?”

  “What statistics?” She didn’t have a clue what Daniel was yammering about. “Dead men in vacant houses?”

  He held out his flat palm next to his face shielding his words from the nearby lively children. “Lesbians.”

  Her eyebrows lifted as she realized she’d lost the conversational thread somewhere. “Daniel, I don’t think there are any more or any fewer than previously. People are just more open.” What did this have to do with anything? If she were a cartoon char
acter, a lightbulb would have materialized over her head and flickered to life. Her casual comment meant to save his ego started it all.

  Her brother would be forty-three in two months, not old, especially for someone who just turned fifty. His job and a gym membership kept him in shape. As a natural blond, the gray wouldn’t show as much. As for his skin, a little weathered, probably from not using sunscreen as much as he should have. Still, he carried it well and it gave him rugged appeal. He had a good five to seven years before most women would see him as too old to be interesting. Would it devastate him when his good looks no longer merited superior service or enhanced opinions? Would the halo effect, where people assumed attractive people were smarter, kinder, just better than average people, dim as her brother aged? She remembered reading about it. At the time, she wondered if ugly people were perceived as meaner, more stupid and vicious. Didn’t seem fair considering neither group could determine their parentage.

  “What?” Daniel swept a hand over his face. “Is there something stuck to my face? Toothpaste, a bit of shaving cream?”

  Shaving cream? The man actually shaved before he came. No wonder he was late. “No, I was just thinking how lucky Maria was.” Good thing she wasn’t Catholic. That whopper of a lie would be a confessable sin.

  A huge smile stretched his lips and reached his eyes. Her off-handed comment made him happy. Maybe she should lie more often. This might be the secret to getting along with people. Besides, it wasn’t a real lie. The server came back while Daniel was still beaming, but she kept scowling down at her pad. “Whadya have?”

  Another flunkie from charm school. At least I’m not the only one. Her brother gave his order while inserting an inquiry about the server’s well-being. She ignored it. Daniel’s smile slipped a little. The server turned to her.

  “I want the lumberjack breakfast, eggs over easy, sausage, wheat toast, grits and pancakes. Bring hot sauce and a coffee pot, while you’re at it.”